


Faith in Humanity

by Howthetiderushesin



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Annie sawyer - Freeform, Being Human - Freeform, Being Human UK - Freeform, George Sands - Freeform, John Mitchell - Freeform, Lenora Crichlow - Freeform, Life goes on after 3x08, Redemption, Russell Tovey - Freeform, What could have happened, aidan turner - Freeform, mitchell lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28358514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howthetiderushesin/pseuds/Howthetiderushesin
Summary: It was Georges idea in a red eyed crazed panic.There was Mitchell, begging for peace, grasping onto George, thrusting a stake in his hands. And just when he was so close. Just as George had raised his closed fist, stake in hand; but it suddenly fell limp at his side.“Lets just go! All of us. We’ll just get out of here” he had desperately pleaded. It wasn’t going to end like this. With Mitchell so lost, so…..withdrawn. He rapidly surveyed his surroundings, eyes and head darting across the room.Mitchell had protested then. He couldn’t see any other way. He just wanted it to be over.“There!”, George had pointed at the famous wall. The one Annie had originally found tacky but grew to love. “We’ll all go there”Mitchell?” He pleaded. “We can do this, get away from it all. Try again”. He had suggested wildly, eyes brimming with tears once again.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, a few things I want to set up before you get into it. This is an AU which takes place after 3x08. In this version Nina doesn’t exist, I wanted to focus on the original trio. Annie and Mitchell also didn’t happen in this version. (I love them but I wanted to make space for something else before they get together). And Annie sleeps. Yep. She does that now. I intend this to be a continuing series but it will depend if its something people enjoy reading or not, so let me know.

Her neck and back ached, she realised as she slowly began to adjust to her surroundings. The gentle hum of the fan. Cicadas. A breeze washed in through the open window. Annie rose from the awkward position she had adopted in her sleep, rubbing her eyes. The sun had set, she realised as the last glints of pink washed away from the darkening sky. She wondered what George and Mitchell had gotten up to. Pulling back the sheer bed curtains and swinging her legs off the side of the bed, Annie stretched her limbs. The floorboards creaked beneath her weight as she walked over to the door, her hand tightened around the brass knob until she froze. Ah doors. They never cease to remind her of what’s to come. But she’s safe now. Mitchells safe. George is safe.

‘We’re all safe’ she thinks to herself.

She opens the door to a small dock and balcony, glancing right and left at the neighbouring overwater suites . Mitchell, Annie and George share a room. Of course, Annie could not get her own room. Disembodied spirits have little rights in this world and renting a room wasn’t one of them. She expects they will rent another room for George and Mitchell, but for now they were all exhausted from the boat ride in.

So they had packed it all in, in one room together. Then there’s George, appearing round the corner, slapping about in his flip flops, drying his hair with a towel.

“George” grins Annie,

“Ahh you’re awake” He cheers. “It’s about time”.

“Mitchell about?”

“He’s still groggy, probably in the little bar…tavern….thing..” He says as he fusses with the towel.

All 3 of them were exhausted. The long boat ride,

the heat,

settling down.

Because they had moved you see. Long gone was the rusty yet loveable B&B. The pink bathroom. The ‘retro’ wall.

“sometimes we pretend to go surfing” George had once said.

But they hadn’t left it all behind. In a way. Because they packed up and set off for Hawaii. Honolulu to be precise. But they now found themselves settled on Kauai.

It was Georges idea in a red eyed crazed panic.

There was Mitchell, begging for peace, grasping onto George, thrusting a stake in his hands. And just when he was so close. Just as George had raised his closed fist, stake in hand; but it suddenly fell limp at his side.

“Lets just go! All of us. We’ll just get out of here” he had desperately pleaded. It wasn’t going to end like this. With Mitchell so lost, so…..withdrawn. He rapidly surveyed his surroundings, eyes and head darting across the room.

Mitchell had protested then. He couldn’t see any other way. He just wanted it to be over.

“There!”, George had pointed at the famous wall. The one Annie had originally found tacky but grew to love. “We’ll all go there”

Mitchell?” He pleaded. “We can do this, get away from it all. Try again”. He had suggested wildly, eyes brimming with tears once again.

They were going to try one more time. For there’s love and loyalty here as much as there is chaos and bloodshed. We’re all trying. To be sane, to be safe, to be…human?

They knew after what Mitchell had done that, they’d all be hunted. There was a price to pay. There was always someone else after them. So, yes, Mitchell had wanted to give up. But if _he_ was going to give up, then they were _all_ going to give up. And they were going to do it their way, and together. No more trying to lead a ‘normal’ life, a job, a house, a family.

No. They were going to live in their own way. On an island. In the unbearable heat, with sticky skin and red sunburns. Off as far away as they could get, somewhere secluded and.. safe? Lets hope so.

So here they were. Throwing in the towel. A loud ‘Fuck it’ to the world. Margaritas and cocktails by the beach. For everyone except Annie. But there was a new skill for her to learn; a hobby. One Mitchell would really appreciate. Of course, she would still make tea. And still, none of them would drink it.

It had been days of travelling. Days of exhaustion. And when they had finally arrived, they each dropped dead where they stood. Even Annie. And she was never tired. But the events of the past few days had exhausted her. She could feel the pain and anguish radiating from Mitchell and George, her familiars, and it had taken its toll on her as much as it had on them.

“Should we … really be leaving Mitchell alone” Annie asked cautiously.

“I- well- I don’t know” he stuttered. “He’s been fine for days” He looked around trying to convince himself. “A little broody, perhaps but hels fine, really. Just fine.

…. completely fine”. He trails off.

Annie attempts smiling but theres a shade of despair behind her eyes. She tries steering the conversation to a happier page. This was a new beginning after all.

“Beautiful isn’t is” she cheers grabbing Georges arm, gazing out to the sea. ‘Even better than the wall” she exasperates; a look of sarcastic astonishment on her face

“Who would of guessed,” George feigns enthusiasm.

Then there's a silence. Good thing one of Annie's talents is filling those right up.

“Tell you what, I do miss the carpet” She says cheerfully tugging on his arm. “And that urn” she adds gazing off into the distance, picturing it. “….And that attic”

“Kind of a creepy attic, now that I think of it” George notes.

Annie laughs, realising she’s managed to draw George away from a thought spiral. She's glad he’s going along with her humour.

“Well, let’s go wake Mitchell then” She says. “Hes probably in an alcohol - induced – coma, and in desperate need of a cup of tea”

“Right, I’ll lead the way to the tavern… bar… place”. He tries to recall the direction

“Yep its this way, he says turning left. “No..no no I remember, this way” he turns right.

Annie follows gleefully

“You know they do karaoke”

Annie gives him a questioning look

“in that bar” George clarifies. “They have a mic and everything”

“Ahh happy days George.. happy days”


	2. Some Things Never Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been over 4 months since the tear-soaked confrontation between the trio. Since then they have all tried to put it behind them. They had consciously made a choice to carry on. Together. So there was no more talk on the events that occurred on the train. For now, at least.
> 
> Mitchell put on a mask most days. It was like speaking to an echo of his old self. But George could tell he was putting on a show. Muscle memory. Assessing how the old Mitchell would behave. 
> 
> “He just needs time” George says. “We all do”.

“Im not gettin’ a job” Mitchell shook his head laughing mockingly. “that’s not gonna happen”

“It’s a nice little beach café, really Mitchell, they have those little umbrellas in their drinks …its picturesque” George explains with large hand gestures

“Let me rephrase that” Mitchell states bluntly, rummaging through his suitcase. He pauses then meets Georges eye. “I **_cant_** get a job”

George quickly averts his gaze, instead directing his focus to the dresser he’s leaning against, tracing the surface awkwardly.

Mitchell pauses, hands on his knees. He’s read Georges expression, and decides to change the subject. His eyes dart between George and his suitcase until he resumes his search for his fingerless gloves.

“Besides, I thought we were doing things differently, no?” his accent is more pronounced.

Chilling out, by the sea, right?

“Yea well we do need money” Georges face scrunches. “This hut isn’t going to pay the rent itself”.

Suddenly a third voice echoes nonchalantly from the opposite end of the room.

“Some things never change, do they?” Annie sighs

George and Mitchells head swiftly turn to follow the voice, both startled. It’s a reflex.

“God, I _hate_ it when you do that” George shrieks

Mitchell shakes his head and gets up off his knees, running a hand through his hair.

He looks between George and Annie. The ceiling fan wobbles above them as it spins, squeaking slightly.

“Fine” he throws his hands up, defeated. “Fine, ill think about it but if you’ll excuse me, there’s a bar stool-“; he stops to slide on his shades; “ with my name on it”.

The door slams behind him.

“Well if he wasn’t an alcoholic before….” Annie sighs, but there’s a note of humour in her voice.

She takes on a more serious expression, when George seems to have not heard her comment.

“Do you think we should…. I don’t know….talk about it? Annie says slowly.

It had been over 4 months since the tear-soaked confrontation between the trio. Since then they have all tried to put it behind them. They had consciously made a choice to carry on. Together. So there was no more talk on the events that occurred on the train. For now, at least.

Mitchell put on a mask most days. It was like speaking to an echo of his old self. But George could tell he was putting on a show. Muscle memory. Assessing how the old Mitchell would behave. 

“He just needs time” George says. “We all do”.

Annie lies defeated on the bed. “I miss him”.

She isn’t sure George will understand her meaning. After all Mitchell is here. In the flesh. With them.

But George _does_ understand.

He shares their room; He makes a mess with his luggage half unpacked and half shoved back into his suitcase. He jokes with them. Eats with them. Sometimes even laughs with them. But its not him. Not really. It’s an act. He’s putting on a show. Not to be deceptive but because he’s lost his way. He can’t remember what it’s like. To be human.

“Me too” he exhales slowly

“Me too”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst at editing my writing, punctuating, you name it, just a heads up :).


	3. And Then There Would Be Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He massages his forehead and turns back to Mitchell. “Focus Mitchell, that’s the last thing.. any of us need right now”
> 
> “You’re telling me? What the hell is that” Mitchell directs a pointed finger at a dark-haired girl in the same hand he’s holding his beer.
> 
> “Aaaand, you’ve lost me completely” George trails off, a puzzled expression on his face.
> 
> “Well?” Mitchell glares at George questioningly.
> 
> “Well…” George continues. “In my expert opinion; it appears to be…A girl.” He concludes that Mitchell is too drunk to make sense.
> 
> “No, na mate” Mitchell challenges, eyes still focused on the girl.
> 
> He stumbles as he tries to slide off the bar stool in his drunken state. “That’s no girl”

*I touch myself by Divinyls, plays in the background *

_“I don’t want anyyybody else, when I think about you, I touch myself”_

“Oh god, not this song again” Mitchell groans with disanimation in his eyes as his swigs the beer bottle, turning his back to the playing band.

Kauai didn’t have much of a night life compared to Bristol , or Wales, Mitchell had slowly started to realise. People here were pretty easy going. Maybe that was a good thing for them.

Friday nights at their local bar was ‘party night’, laser lights, music, the whole shebang. And the local band that Mitchell detested. They mostly sang covers of any song that took their fancy.

“They really **are** an _awful_ band” George lazily replies, twirling the mini umbrella around in his drink.

“I’ll drink to that” Mitchell nods and takes another swig of his beer.

“What?!” Annie’s head snaps as she squints at Mitchell and George. “They're a great band!” she exclaims, flailing her hands about as she explains. “Look at them, the **passion** , the **dancing** -“

“The wailing” George sighs.

“What? - oh god- you two!” she stutters over the words as they rush out, shooting them both looks of disapproval. She turns back to face the band. Mitchell and George have their backs turned, leaning over the bar.

“Tell you what, if they could see me, I’d get their autograph, hang it up and everything”

No one is listening to Annie at this point, but rather in a haze of drinking cheap beer and fruity sangrias (courtesy of George). Annie can’t help but feel a stab of nostalgia as she knows, that earlier on, in the early days of their flourishing friendship, that the band would be something Mitchell would be thoroughly enjoying. He’d laugh and cheer from his bar stool and encourage Annie to get up on the small stage with them. He’d shake George out of his particular brand of sulking and convince him to enjoy ‘the experience’, and eventually, George would ease up. All three of them would be up there with the band, Mitchell might even steal the microphone, depending on how drunk he was.

But now the three of them stood on shaky ground. Not knowing where they stood with one another or even with themselves. They were walking on eggshells around each other, desperate to go back to the way things were. But each of them, silently battling their own demons. 

Suddenly, Annie rents a ghost out of there.

“Mitchell do you think we should find another bar to hang out in” George says turning around from the bar to face the band. “I’m really starting to wonder if we’re getting too old for this” he rambles, “Not that I think-“

Mitchells’ eyes focus on something in the distance. His eyebrows pull together.

“Mi- Mitchell?” George waves his hand in front of Mitchells face.

“Well – what _are_ you looking at?” he shrieks after a silence that drags on too long. George turns his head scanning his surroundings. Until he catches on to what Mitchell had been staring at.

He massages his forehead and turns back to Mitchell. “Focus Mitchell, that’s the last thing.. any of us need right now”

“You’re telling me? What the hell is that” Mitchell directs a pointed finger at a dark-haired girl in the same hand he’s holding his beer.

“Aaaand, you’ve lost me completely” George trails off, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Well?” he glares at George questioningly.

“Well…” George continues. “In my expert opinion; it appears to be…A _girl_.” He concludes that Mitchell is too drunk to make sense.

“No, na mate” Mitchell challenges, eyes still focused on the girl.

He stumbles as he tries to slide off the bar stool in his drunken state. “That’s no girl”

George exchanges looks between the dark haired girl and Mitchell. “No?”

“Well, is it drag then?” he squints, assessing her.

“George!” Mitchell exclaims slapping George’s chest without looking. “Im trying to say, well I think she’s one of us!”. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

“No….” George replies stunned. No I had not”


	4. A Chance Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell gestures to himself “I’m a vampire”
> 
> He then pulls George closer with a fistful of his shirt “and this here, is a real life werewolf”
> 
> “Ekh”, the girl fails at supressing a shiver when George is introduced.

After arguing back and forth, Mitchell finally pressures George into making introductions. George had seen no reason to get involved, he’d fought against it.

But in the end, his curiosity, (and Mitchells persistence) had won him over.

“Hello.. there… young woman” George attempts. He is standing Infront of the girl, attempting to be casual, one arm leaning over the bar. She has a striking appearance. Sharp cheekbones, defined jaw.

“A little **_less_** peedo-ish, would be great George” Mitchell hisses quietly.

The girl glances between the two boys. There’s a blank look on her face.

“Right uhh- we couldn’t help but notice that..um… well, you see…” George stutters.

Mitchell rolls his eyes, stepping in front of him. “Hi”, he smiles charmingly “, I’m Mitchell and this is my friend, George”

The girl raises an eyebrow quizzically.

“And well, were just gonna get to it..”, he says rubbing his hands together.

Mitchell gestures to himself “I’m a vampire”

He then pulls George closer with a fistful of his shirt “and this here, is a real life werewolf”

“Ekh”, the girl fails at supressing a shiver when George is introduced.

Silence.

The three of them exchange glances.

 _“What did I do?”_ George complains quietly to Mitchell.

“I guess you guys aren’t so popular in the entirety of supernatural world, mate” Mitchell whispers back. “Not just with vampires”.

“Soda water, miss” the bartender slides over a glass.

George and Mitchell glance between the drink and the girl.

The girl nods,“Im pregnant….so no drinks for me” she states casually taking a sip.

“Ah” George smiles awkwardly “yes, well..” he looks at Mitchell, then back to her “we were just saying, that you were glowing… you have that…pregnancy glow….just radiating from- Argghh” George is cut off from a subtle _(really it wasn’t that subtle)_ elbow in the ribs from Mitchell.

“I was just messing with you” she says laughing and shaking her head.

“Leia” she smiles warmly. Its a smile that reaches her eyes. She clearly isn’t from around here, she has a refined English accent. Mitchell observes she looks young. Younger than the three of them, at any rate. She couldn’t be older than 23. There’s a youthful innocence about her.

The joke, unfortunately, didn’t really hit home. It reminded Mitchell of Annie’s awkward sense of humour. She probably would have found it funny.

They don’t sit down. They aren’t sure if they are welcome or not. Then there’s another silence that lingers on for too long, once again.

Leia blinks. Her bright hazel eyes dart between the two boys.

“You know, I should be off, its much past my bed time.. really” she says, so unconvincingly, that Mitchell gets the impression she isn’t trying to hide the lie. He doesn’t blame her for wanting to get away.

“Wait, what- what are you? George questions

“You mean you don’t know”? Leia replies, sliding off her bar stool, getting ready to leave.

“Well I suppose it’s not too obvious. I don’t grow fur when the full moon hits or anything like that” she downs the last of her drink in one gulp. “I guess the only way you could tell is if I snapped your neck” she laughs, then her face slackens, and she swallows. “Not that I would…”

She has no idea what these two young men want from her. Perhaps they want to start some weird supernatural club….or cult…

She decides instantly that she’ll pass.

***

Annie lays on the sand, her eyes closed, under the hot sun as the waves lapped softly. Calm. Tranquil. Meaning – it could not last. Not in their world. She senses shadows moving behind her eyelids. 

Then she hears an Irish accent.

“You tell her” Mitchell nudges George. 

Annie’s eyes remained closed. 

She hears a muted, “Stop shoving me” from George.

“We’ve met someone” George says   
“A someone, someone”.


	5. One Of The Damned

“An angel?” Annie interjects between Mitchell and George arguing over the technicalities. “You’re joking!”. There’s a puzzled look on her face. They’ve made their way back to Georges hut

He’s walking over to the fixture near the door to flip on the fan switch.

“Well, a _fallen_ angel” George corrects.

“Yeah, hold on there George, let’s not get carried away” Mitchell mumbles with a raised hand

“So those exist?”, Annie’s hovering near the stove and Mitchell suspects she’s about to boil the water.

“I guess, if she is….what she says, she is…..” Mitchell ponders with furrowed brows. “Well she’s just like a vampire essentially…one of the ’damned’. “Without the whole blood ting” he adds.

“Well , we're all cursed Mitchell, so we _are all_ ‘damned’. George yawns.

Annie and Mitchell shoot George poisonous glances.

“Ok I’m focusing, sorry, just a little drunk…still…I think…and hungry…what’s for breakfast?” He moves over to the mini fridge perched on the counter.

“Well then. That’s something” Annie says stunned.

“You know when I was 19, I was told I had the face of an angel” she gestures with her hands wildly “they wanted me to pose for a magazine and everything”. “You wouldn’t hear me going on about it though” she laughs it away with a shrug and wave of her hand.

“Right”, Mitchell slowly processes the information.

“Well, let’s invite her in” Annie clasps her hands together in a dramatic gesture. She’s positively giddy. “You know, we’ll help her; get the old gang back together”.

“Annie, no” George mumbles, mouth full of crisps. “Were not getting involved. Besides you didn’t meet her, she’d want nothing to do with us.” He says with a shake of his head. “And she seems pretty secure…in her….supernaturality?

The tea pot whistles, as Annie scurries over towards it.

“That’s not a word, George” Mitchell mentions as he throws himself over the couch, exhausted from the night they’ve had.

Annie looks over at Mitchell. He simply offers her a shrug.

“What are the chances?” Annie explains, “We pack up and move to the other side of the world and we find someone like us…. _alone_.”

When no one replies to her, she continues.

“So did she have… wings?” Is that a _weird_ thing to say?” They should have them, right? Annie rambles, as she adds a spoonful of honey to one of the mugs she has set out.

“No, they _shouldn’t_ have anything because they _shouldn’t_ exist” George says, yawning once again.

Annie looks to Mitchell for an elaboration. He’s 117-year-old vampire. If anyone going to know anything; its him.

He rolls his eyes at her expectant stare.

“I mean, I’ve heard things yeah, like old lore, ya know… about those kinds of creatures” he explains, unsure. “Just things ya hear; stories”.

Annie walks over, to hand George his tea.

“But there’s no truth to them, as far as I know.” He says waving Annie away when she offers him his mug.

“And we can assume they don’t like werewolves based on a certain _someone’s_ reaction” George retorts, sliding onto the couch beside Mitchell, equally as exhausted.

“They’re more powerful than vampires, yeah, but they can’t really **_do_** anything extraordinary” Mitchell reaches for the tv remote by the coffee table, flipping the tv on.

“How do you mean?” Annie asks confused, taking a seat beside George.

“They were _souls, ‘_ all powerful spirits’. He pauses, contemplating how to explain it. “ Now, trapped in their human form, cast out of heaven - If you believe in that sort of ting- so it’s a downgrade – less than what they were …..but still having more to offer than most supernaturals”.

“Well this just keeps getting more interesting”, George croaks dipping his teabag in and out of his mug.

Mitchells channel surfing now, the topic seems to have come to a natural conclusion. Yet George catches Annie’s expression of thought, and just before she can get a word out, he cuts her off.

“ **She,** is _not_ our problem” George laughs nervously “who’s to say she’s a problem at all? She seems perfectly capable, and if what Mitchells saying is true, well then, we probably should stay away. All powerful being and that…. “he trails off.

Mitchell and Annie say nothing in return.

“We don’t need more of _this_ ” he says as he gestures to the three of them.


	6. A Fine Distraction - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Fine Distraction, takes place 4-7 months after 'One Of The Damned'

Mitchells door swings open. He knows this, because he hears the ear-splitting thud of the wood, as it slams against the stone walls. He squeezes his eyes shut and hopes for 5 more minutes before this fine intrusion takes hold. The curtain that hangs over the entrance to his bedroom door is pulled aside, forcing light to stream into the bedroom.

“Mitchell!”

The voice is alert and slightly high pitched, clearly in a state of emergency.

But Mitchell only squints and shifts in his bed to avoid the light.

She waits patiently. Yet she hears nothing, not even a disgruntled sound of disapproval from Mitchell.

“My god, for fu- “an incredulous voice sounds. He knows whos’ voice it is. But he’s groggy and tired and his bed is cool.

Suddenly she’s across the room, leaping onto his mattress. Mitchells on his side but she straddles him tugging the pillow he’s using to shield his eyes from the light, out of his grasp.

Leia lifts the pillow over her head then slams it down onto him repeatedly just as Annie appears by her side.

“I saw it” she stammers to Leia, her eyes wide.

“Mitchell!” Annie exclaims in alarm. “You need to – George is – he’s off the rails, he is “ she stutters over her words as they rush out, pointing towards the door.

Over the past couple of months, Leia had fallen into place amongst them. It was entirely unexpected. But the trio kept finding themselves bumping into her, now that they were _acquainted._

“It’s a sign” Annie had kept reminding them subtly, over and over. They soon got to know Leia. As much of a recluse as she had become, she couldn’t shake off the charming vampire, docile werewolf and persistent, cheerful ghost. They were connected by something much larger than themselves. Now, Annie calls it fate, _(having forgotten about the wolf shaped bulle_ t prophecy?), but really, it’s a bond between lost souls, every bit as fearful of themselves as they are of the outside world.

She had dropped her pretences and flung herself into the next disaster. As much as she was opposed of this ‘bonding’ of supernatural creatures, she was just as curious and just as impulsive. This is something Mitchell, George and Annie would soon come to realise, taking hard measures to keep her impulsivity in check. It had taken time, but after daily coaxing from the trio, she seemed to realise, that they were not the worst company in the world.

She was fine with pleasantries. Leia could be as pleasant as the next person, but after all was said and done, she would retreat to wherever she found solace, the wild, the cliffs, the beach, her home. Alone. Its hard to trust, being supernatural. Hard to face rejection for what you were. Difficult to put down the defences that were needed to survive. No one knows this more than Mitchell. He had sympathised with her almost immediately. Annie desired a new friend above all else and George found he was slowly becoming more and more attached to her as well.

“Would ya get off!” Mitchells annoyance dims down as he opens his eyes to the girls. He was glad for Annies sake, that she had another girl to bond with. _‘They had got on real quick’ he thought to himself._

Leia rolls off Mitchell, towards the left side of the bed, laying next to him over the covers as she stares at the ceiling. “Everything was going so well” she exclaims silently at the ceiling.

Wondering what on earth these two were on about, Mitchell hitches himself up, to glance outside the open door.

“- the sun has barely risen-”

“Mitchell, theres a body “, Annie begins, a defeated tone in her voice.

“A carcass” Leia corrects, eyes still focused on the ceiling.

“Mitchells head darts between them with a questioning look

Annie’s face contorts in sympathy. “George, he’s- well he’s _… killlled_ …. someone”, She drags out the word, unsure of how she should break the news

“Murdered” Leia whispers with a shake of her head.

“Oh- could you just not treat this like a joke” Annie exclaims disapprovingly with an outstretched hand to tug her off the bed.

Leia reaches for Annie as she pulls her up to standing position.

“Okay, okay” Leia throws her hands up in defeat “Look, I just don’t see what the big deal is- accidents happen, and besides there’s plenty more _people_ about. She moves over to the fruit bowl on Mitchells counter. Fruit he never touches. It was mostly Leia who ate it all, and Annie who kept refilling it. "Its not as if-" , she takes a bite of an apple she’s picked. Then with a full mouth, continues. “- as if he’s declared their extinction” she mutters rolling her eyes. “I _just don’t get the big deal_ ”.

“The _big_ deal” Annie asserts, with a hand on her hip, “is the fact that is someone’s _life_ ”

Leia shoots her a look, still chewing on an apple as if to say “Yeah, and?”.

Mitchell throws back the bed sheets and swings his legs over to the side of the bed. His head hangs low as he processes the information before him. He’s only got a pair of shorts on, to which Annie throws him a pair of jeans. “Not to mention this is a small island and its not difficult for us to be-“ he massages his temples then looks at them both “caught out……hunted”

“Hunted? Hunted by who” Leia retorts incredulous. “If anyone tried anything, I assure you, it would be _me_ hunting _them_ ” Leia discards the half-eaten apple on the counter.

She was clearly struggling with the whole ‘being human concept’ but at least she had the love and loyalty part down, Annie thought to herself.

“Let’s get gone” Mitchell advises, threading his belt through his jeans.

They had a mess to clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to write some future chapters recalling the events which flung Leia and the trio together. 
> 
> Fans of the BH series also know that each character represents an affliction. Leia's character does also, but i'll let people catch on before I reveal it.


	7. A Fine Distraction - part 2

Mitchell is hiring a boat at the docks, negotiating with a man. In the distance, Annie and Leia watch him try to secure their escape with bated breath.

They hover around awkwardly, guarding their black duffle bag as best they can. George is trying not to hurl. He has not yet processed the guilt. But it will soon follow. Leia despises being woken at such an ungodly hour, _she_ is still processing her rude awakening.

And Annie?

Annie scolds George at every moment. She hasn’t stopped since she found out. But he’s still recovering from his transformation and not yet recovered.

“Annie; once this _hangover_ is sorted, there will be time for this” he dramatically retorts with as much energy he can muster in his wretched state.

“Alright” she throws her hands up in defeat, annoyed. She turns her back on him, to give him the illusion of privacy.

Yet she swings back around in the next moment.

“I just don’t see how you managed to _fuck up_ this bad-” Annie pauses bewildered “ – you _have_ a calendar…… of the MOON” she emphasises.

“We’ve just moved Annie, I cant find half my junk” He swallows down a threatening hiccup. It burns his throat. “Oh god” he whines leaning over the dock, preparing to puke his guts out.

“Well at least he’ll be feeding the fish” Leia smiles scrunching up her face, an illusion of enthusiasm in her tone.

She’s looking for any sort of silver lining.

Leia tugs on Annie's arm, pulling her over and away from George, when she notices her still frowning at him.

“Annie, lets just let it go for now?”

Annie is about to reply when a passing couple interrupt with an insistent “Excuse me”.

Leia feigns patience, as they shuffle past. _‘Oh god, what now’_ she thinks.

“your bag is….leaking” the woman gestures towards the duffle bag in Leia’s grasp. She glances down at it. It isn’t leaking blood ; but water. Water with a diluted pinkish tinge. She had filled the bag with ice, not knowing what else to do. All she knew is that she had to keep stench of a decomposing corpse at bay.

In her defense they were rushed for time and she had been the only one who had thought of anything at all.

“Brilliant” Annie cries dramatically “all we need”.

Leia doesn’t turn to Annie but absorbs the weight of her remark.

“Yes….” She says slowly, then looks back up at the lady. “Yes it appears it is” a smile plastered on her face.

The couple exchange awkward glances with Leia.

“Well, Happy New year”, Leia waves them off, hoping to have brought the interaction to a swift conclusion. They read the cues diligently.

“You should have filled an _esky_ , not a Duffle bag” George sounds, doubled over at the edge of the dock, commenting on the scene before him.

Leia rolls her eyes.

“Yes, we should have George” Leia says, her voice dripping in sarcasm. “Perhaps you could tell me where to buy one on short notice _….. on bloody New Years day_ ” Her voice rises as she swings the duffle bag at him. “And tell me why _IM THE ONE_ carrying the leftovers of your lunch”.

“Ew don’t throw it at me, my god it stinks!” George wrinkles his nose, attempting to dodge the bag.

A loud “Happy New Year” jolts them from argument about to break out as a passing group attempt to squeeze past.

Leia and George gather themselves swiftly smiling and shifting to allow them passage but return to sneering at each other when they stroll past.

Mitchell returns then, gesturing them to follow him to the boat.


	8. Justified Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part 3 to 'A Fine Distraction' and the final chapter following that plot.

They all pile into the boat, its small and a little run down. They nod to the driver as they squeeze in. George is carrying the duffle bag now, but his arm is outstretched as to create as much distance as possible. They had thought about starting a fire.

But in broad daylight like this?

_Not a good idea._

So, they would do it on a small, isolated, nearby island instead. There were plenty of those, scattered across the pacific.

The driver is chatty. Too chatty. He’s middle-aged man with a gold tooth that glistens each time he gives them a wide grin.

Then he asks what their New Years plans are, and in the same breath, inquires as to what’s in the bag. The smell is more obvious now and a red stain is beginning to seep through.

Mitchell cuts in before anyone can make this worse. Specifically, George.

“Just your typical New Years barbeque”, he laughs convincingly, leaning over the side of the boat. Although George notices his unease.

*

Its been 10 minutes since they had boarded the boat. The four of them are huddled away from the view of the driver, facing the ocean.

And…It has finally hit George.

“Im starting to think, it’s always going to be like this” he says quietly, breaking his silence.

“Every time, he shakes his head bewildered. Every single time I think I’ve got a handle on it, something happens; _something will go wrong_. It’s inevitable! _Us_ , being what _we_ are. No matter how much we want things to be different, or for us to change, its never going to happen is it? There’s a defeated tone in his voice.

It’s a gloomy thought to wrestle with on the 1st of January. Leia sits cross-legged on the deck of the boat fiddling with her hands. She contemplates Georges words.

 _They all do_.

Annie’s face is sympathetic. “George, it feels like this now but…. It won’t always.” Its little consolation but its all anyone can offer right now.

A strangled gasp sounds from behind them.

“A barbeque?” the driver questions fearfully, his eyes are frantic. He drops the bag as it sloshes back into the crimson puddle beneath it.

“Were _not_ cannibals!” George quickly calls out, stuttering. “ _Really!”_

Mitchell gives him a _‘how is that going to help’_ look.

Panic has risen.

George is off rambling, explaining how ‘they weren’t really planning on barbequing the contents of the bag; well they were, but not for eating purposes, more on the grounds of covering up a murder scene’. ‘It’s all a misunderstanding’ he had explained nervously.

Mitchell is arguing with George in an effort to shut him up.

Annie is frantically yelling “Hit him over the head, just knock him out!” repeatedly to Leia.

Leia is screeching back “with what? hit him with what?”. The boat driver is crying over them for ‘help’.

Its absolute chaos.

Then they hear a loud crack and snap which makes them all fall silent.

Leia is standing over the body, an apologetic looks on her face.

She points at Annie, “she told me to do it”, Leia concludes.

The four of them stand in silence. Two lifeless bodies before them. One less mutilated than the other.

“For the love of god”, Mitchell shakes his head in amazement.

Annie snorts at the irony of his remark, then recollects herself. This is not the time for amusement.

‘No more murdering people!”, he fiercely snatches the duffle bag up from the deck . He nods to George then to Leia, exchanging looks between them. “For five minutes, lets cool it with the blood and gore, hm?”.

An engine rumbles in the distance, as a boat speed towards them, blaring music. They all scramble together, creating a human wall and shielding the sight before them from the view of the passing boat.

“Happy New Year”, ‘a wild group of ravers’, as George would later describe them , call out at once, waving, flashing and popping champagne.

Mitchell, Annie, George and Leia are a portrait of blank looks.

They all mumble over each other in an attempt to return the greeting.

“Well” says George as the music fades away. “I suppose we should get this ‘barbeque’ started”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was as entertaining to read as it was to think it up! This storyline gave me the same vibe as Mitchell and George crying about the real hustle XD. I think they deserved something light hearted after all the doom and gloom.


	9. A Dark Day

It’s a cool afternoon. They sky had been a calming grey all day, the wind rustling palm trees. Leia had dosed off in the back of the bar. She was curled into a ball on the sofa, her head resting on Mitchells lap as he shuffled his deck of cards again on the table Infront of him. Opposite him on the wooden bar stool, a blonde-haired man finishes off the last of his drink and set it down gently on the table, as not to wake Leia.

“I’m not playing again” he laughs, smug with a shake of his head. “I beat you twice already”.

“Best of 3?” Mitchell questions, with a raised eyebrow. The bar is empty except for the owner, cleaning and packing away dishes.

Bar stools are stacked upside down, over the tables.

The band is shuffling quietly on stage, as they idly chat whilst setting up equipment.

The faint clicking of sea glass chimes as they sway in the wind.

“No, forget it mate” Charlie nods to Mitchell as he rises from his seat. “Heading out to sea, the waves are gonna be sick with this wind” He says extending a hand to Mitchell.

He takes it and nods him goodbye as Charlie grabs his keys and wallet, making his way out of the bar. Charlie had been a new friend of Leia’s. She had found her confidence again, enough to seek out new friends, thanks to the safety and comfort that _her newfound friends_ had provided her. Charlie had become acquaintances with Mitchell and George. Sadly, not with Annie who took every moment to ogle him. Often waving her hand in front of his face, to get any sort of reaction.

Mitchell sighed leaning back into the sofa, after setting the cards down. Leia was sound asleep over his lap. He didn’t want to wake her - he knew how hard it was for her to find calm these days.

Sleep did not come easy, yet her body craved it. He sighed and turned up to face the ceiling.

Mitchell would often get in these moods. Not knowing what to do. Bored. Restless. Yet tired and unwilling to do anything about it.

It was then, that his blood lust would creep up on him.

Even now, he could hear her blood rushing through her veins.

A blood bag, in his lap.

And then the thought leaves as quick as it had come, revolted by it.

Mitchell needed a distraction. He considered surfing with Charlie at one point but the idea of the sun blazing down upon him was uncomfortable. He also concluded that he would be no good at it.

Leia, however, couldn’t be found for days. Mitchell had grown to understand these ‘dark days’ were apart of who she was. She would shut herself away. This would save her the trouble of having to explain anything to anyone, because words could not explain it. It was instinctual, what she was suffering from, it was _feeling, memory, thought_ ….

…..not a physical entity.

So, it could not be explained.

Then she had wandered into the bar after days of absence. Unannounced. 

Mitchell was there. As he usually was. And she crawled into his lap, like a cat that had strayed in.

Not a word.

But she needed none because Mitchell was a kindred spirit, and he just _knew_.

At some point Mitchell had drifted off too, he realised, as his eyes flew open at the sound of violent clanging then hushed cursing.

Mitchell turned his head to the sight of the sea glass chimes clattering onto the stone walkway just outside the entry of the bar. Half tangled with Georges arms as he tried to escape from the string.

The bar owner had leant over, to catch a glimpse of George who held an apologetic expression.

“That was um- like that, before I got here, ” he said, straightening out his shirt as he picked up the chimes.

George made his way inside, setting the remains on the table. The owner shook his head but continued putting away the glasses.

George caught Mitchells humoured expression and grimaced. “Oh, all right Mitchell!” George muttered, tying an apron across his waist. “Where have you been all day”.

“Here” Mitchell replied with a yawn. “More or less”.

Then George recognises her.

Is that-? George mouths, gesturing to Leia. Mitchell nods cutting off George with a finger to his lips as if not to wake her.

Georges face holds a sorrowful expression. It was not too long ago that George was struggling with the same sort of ‘dark cloud’ after recent events. He had relapsed and _god did he know it._

They don’t know enough about Leia to know what ails her, but they can sense that something had occurred. This…..well…..

 _this_ looks like grief.

But they know better than to question anything. Leia was somewhat of a wild animal. They had earned her trust in measures but what is wild by nature can never be completely tamed. She gives them her friendship, her heart, and as much honesty as she can muster.

But their knowledge does not extend beyond the life she led before her years of seclusion.

Without her presence, for the past week, there had been a slight tension between the trio.

Before Leia, they were tormented with their past, picking up fragmented pieces of their relationship. They lost sight of each other, unsure how to proceed. Then she had stepped in and their efforts were directed towards their curiosity in her, then in helping her.

So with Leias ‘relapse’ the wheel had begun to slowly turn.

Annie was also feeling the weight of her own partial existence more keenly. Because without Leia, no one else could see her. Mitchell and George were often away. So she spent her days alone. Too scared to wander out.

George still reeling from the immense guilt of his last mistake, had thrown himself into his new job, picking up extra shifts when he could.

And Mitchell….well, Mitchell was floating by. Often away, often distracted. Silent. Tormented as ever.

Everyone retreated to their own corner. The weight of it all, the weight of their hopelessness was weighing them down. The constant battles. And as they had come to find, Leia, the strongest of them all, was also the most fragile.

The plates and glass cups stacked neatly on the counter begin to rattle as the earth shakes beneath them.

In the next moment everything is still. George notices Annie by the door and suddenly it all makes sense.

Sick of her own company, Annie has decided to join them, but its clear, from her violent tremors that it wont do.

Mitchell concludes they’ve got to get her home. George swiftly agrees and leaves his shift early.


	10. ...And A Dark Night

There’s no denying it’s an _interesting_ night in. The crickets chirp outside, they’ve left the window open, so the sea breeze drifts in. But secretly Annie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because some part of her feels joined again with her friends. It feels just like how it did, in their house in Bristol, then Wales.

The nights they had shared like this, in each other’s company. She has learnt that you cannot repeat the past, she has learnt it the hard way. But she has also realised that history does repeat itself......yet in an _entirely different way_. 

There’s two pizza boxes on the floor along side empty, toppled beer bottles. Mitchell and Leia are binge eating whereas George is put off food for the moment. His sadness taking over.

The TV is muted but pictures move in the background. No one is paying attention. But ‘moody music’ is playing on the radio. They had gone through some Nickelback songs and now, Harry Styles’ Fine Line was blaring its melancholic melody.

When they had first gotten drunk, they had tried some karaoke. It had gone marvelously. Leia and George got right into it.

But now they were in the last phase of their grief. Acceptance of their situation. Of their emotions. Their helplessness. 

Leias sprawled out on the wooden floor, using one of sofa cushions to soften the space between her body and the ground. She takes one last swig and slides the bottle over the floorboards to George. He needs it more than any of them at the moment.

Annie is telekinetically opening and closing the refrigerator door from her seat in the living room as she plays with a strand of her curls, twirling it around her finger.

George has his socks pulled over his sweat pants as he sobs uncontrollably again. Mitchell throws the tissue box at him.

Mitchell’s lain in an armchair, legs stretched out on a footstool. Staring towards the ceiling and listening to the music

George exchanged the tissues for the bottle and Mitchell chugs it down.

“Tissues” Leia calls out. George passes the box over. Annie has moved on to playing with the light beaming from behind the lampshades.

It’s a sorry sight. But at least they had a fine barter system to keep it running smoothly.

They exchange glances every now and then.

Annie decides its time for an intervention. “How about a movie?” she says softly yet encouragingly.

George lets out a disgruntled sound.

“A sad one?,” she rises from the couch, over to the dvd pile on the floor

“Not pride and prejudice again, ” Leia stifles her sobs

“No!” Annie laughs. “No , why would we watch that – “ she inconspicuously slides the pride and prejudice DVD back into the pile.

“- We just need to get it all out of our system…. and just - why do we have two copies of Mamma Mia? – and just have a good cry” she continues, ransacking through the DVD piles.

George gives a sideways look to Mitchell, eyebrows raised at the DVDs in question.

“We’ve got Casablanca; the godfather, Mr and Mrs Smith, Iron man ….. she trails off.

“ La Dolce Vita…. The sounds of music?” She gives a questioning look at Leia. “Quite the random collection”

“Don’t look at me, I haven’t contributed to this- “Leia gestures wildly at the mess on the floor, “- this chaos” she finally manages to get out through sobs. Burying her face back into her pillow.

“So what do you guys think?” Annie says hopeful. “Mi – Mitchell are you – snoring….? “

He was sound asleep, bottle slipping from his hand.

She turns to George who’s crying still, his hands over his face, and then to Leia, her face buried in her pillow.

“Well –“ she continues slowly, processing the scene before her.

“Shall we stick to drinking”.


End file.
